


sky's the limit

by thelostcolony, TheMysticWolf36



Series: you catch more bees with honey than vinegar [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-13 22:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14121855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelostcolony/pseuds/thelostcolony, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMysticWolf36/pseuds/TheMysticWolf36
Summary: Alexander is helpless.





	sky's the limit

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone !! okay so this is reposted from an account called "thcgardcn" ( which I co-ran don't worry !! i'm not into plagiarizing ) but we realized that there's a way to add co-authors to works and like WOW innovation?? so we're doing that instead !! so for any of you guys who are NEW here, hey, hi, you're great and ily thank you for clicking and i hope you enjoy; for those of you who aren't HEY, HI, ILY THANKS FOR COMING BACK TO READ ILY
> 
> without further ado I give you: gay stuff

The moment he sets eyes on Tallmadge, he’s... intrigued.

Tallmadge is all bark, teeth bared but never, it seems, willing to bite. Stress hangs over him like a shroud, weighs down his shoulders like a tangible thing; it presses frowns onto his face, creases into his brow, the color from his cheeks. Tallmadge is, by no means, a bad looking man; graced with delicate bones and cupid bow lips that Shakespeare himself wouldn’t do justice, he’s a pretty sight. But the exhaustion that cloaks him makes him look tired, sallow - older than his twenty three years.

Their first meeting is, for all intents and purposes, a minor calamity. Alexander himself, as per usual, manages to criticize Tallmadge as he’s introducing himself, and even though he’s teasing he watches the words hit home with a little too much force. Anyone who’s anyone knows about the dragoon major who tumbled into the Delaware River and subsequently missed the boat _, so to speak,_ to the battle against the Hessians. But Alexander should have known by the set of Tallmadge’s shoulders that pride was an affliction of his; Alexander sees the same posture in himself when he happens to glance in the mirror.

But even still, Tallmadge is a man almost as determined as he is loyal and almost as loyal as he is protective, clever and bright and quite possibly the most stubborn of the lot. At first, Alexander had thought him to be weak - just another bright eyed young man looking for Washington’s patronage. He thought Tallmadge would soak in Washington’s affection like Lafayette so often does; thought Tallmadge would gladly take whatever morsels of praise Washington threw at his feet. Anyone with a pair of eyes and a lick of sense can tell that Washington abuses Tallmadge and the urge to please he hasn't yet outgrown. Anyone can see that Washington forces Tallmadge to jump through hoops to earn even the barest hint of approval, that which can so easily be mistaken for fatherly pride.

Anyone, it seems, but Tallmadge himself.

Still - Tallmadge has more fire to him than Alexander had first predicted. He’d believed Tallmadge a simpering idiot, a brilliant young fool caught in Washington’s brutally efficient _military family_. No, Alexander had been wrong; “you’d be surprised, _mon ami,”_ Lafayette had claimed, and he’d been correct. The first shouting match between Washington and Tallmadge comes from the far right, hits Alexander in the face with how unsuspecting he is; the argument occurs right in front of him but he can’t recall at all what it was about, so fascinated was he by the sudden fury of Tallmadge’s usually meek expression and the pure, undiluted loathing of Washington’s. They’d exchanged words so clipped that they’d resembled blows; Tallmadge had excused himself far earlier Alexander himself would dare leave (for Alexander, clearly, has more self preservation than Tallmadge, the nimwit).

Washington had huffed, fingers clutching the edge of the table so tightly they’d turned white, cursing Tallmadge’s insolence under his breath. Alexander himself had resigned to the fact that Tallmadge was a dead man and that this had been their last meeting - but when Tallmadge reported in the next day, looking no worse for wear but for the pallor of his cheeks, Washington and he were perfectly civil.

It was fascinatingly gruesome to watch them tear each other apart only to put themselves back together and never speak of it again.

Not that Alexander himself has never irked _His Excellency._ Washington, ever insistent on laying claim to him, can do nothing without making him angry; Washington even still dares to call him _son_ in front of others, dares to lay hands on him in affection in the presence of officials, dares to inquire after his affairs in public company. It undermines any pretense of position or professionalism, and Alexander resents it with nothing short of his whole being. Their own shouting matches, when they’ve rolled around, have always been born from a place of bitterness and have always been accompanied by the private attachment that they so unwillingly share.

Washington’s and Tallmadge’s confrontations, however, seem to be born of nothing short of hatred. Insults are hurled. Tallmadge’s are from a place of frustration and Washington’s are from a place of sought-after control. Tallmadge’s attempts to remain calm are fruitless, and Washington himself loses the very control he’s trying to regain. But there’s a trend that Alexander himself has long realized: Washington very simply asks too much of people, and Tallmadge is very simply too stubborn to quit.

After that, Alexander had seen Tallmadge in a different light. They work side by side, and in the days following that encounter Alexander finds himself smiling more often and rolling his eyes less. Tallmadge, too, seems to open up; he jests some, and they speak a little of their days in school, and it seems to Alexander that they’re finally beginning to get along (outside their discussions of the interests of the Culper spies; Hercules Mulligan’s safety is Alexander’s top priority, and having his identity revealed to Culper Junior is far too dangerous).

But it had been clear to Alexander that Tallmadge runs on sugar; given salt he’s too stubborn not to eat it, but really it’s sweetness that powers him. _Honey works better than vinegar,_ goes the old wives’ tale, and Alexander believes it (if only when applying it to Tallmadge).

(And with each passing day, Alexander begins to find Tallmadge increasingly charming - cute, truth be told. Tallmadge’s nose wrinkles when he’s concentrating. He insists on kindness - “alright there, Hamilton?” he says, brows drawn together in concern, and Alexander has to try his best not to look at those eyes and that mouth as he replies, “just fine, Tallmadge. Struggling with patience for Congress, as usual.” And the smiles they exchange are full of warmth and Alexander thinks, thinks he sees a spark, _a spark of - )_

With John gone and not answering his letters, and Tallmadge looking drawn and tired and yet still so sweet, well...

Alexander can’t be blamed.

He starts slowly at first; no use in spooking Tallmadge off before he even knows the game. It’s all too simple to have their fingers brush when they pass papers back and forth, all too easy to scoot his chair just that much closer to Tallmadge’s. He goes to small lengths; leans forward when Tallmadge is speaking, presses a bit more charm into his voice, gives himself a bit of a flirtatious edge. It's all subtle, not enough to tip Tallmadge off straight out. But by the surprise on his face quickly followed by the flush to his cheeks, Alexander is sure he’s flustered.

And, to Alexander’s great delight, Tallmadge begins to reciprocate. Their fingers brush, hands lingering, Tallmadge sitting closer and talking quieter and perhaps trying to flirt once or twice (though it’s so ineffective that Alexander doesn’t notice until upon later reflection).

And still, Tallmadge - “call me Benjamin,” he says one day, attempting to sound casual and instead only sounding shy - hesitates like the virgin the rumors claim he is, and Alexander privately comes to believe them. Tallmadge is simply too shy and too inexperienced to have been in something resembling a relationship of this sort, be it with a man or a woman (though Alexander  _had_ thought that Tallmadge and his man Brewster had been, well. _Involved,_ in one way or another, but from the looks of things perhaps not).  

And hadn’t the thought of a virgin in camp been a strange one - particularly an officer (particularly, Alexander thought, such a well liked and good looking one, for that matter). Not only are there countless opportunities to pass the time with sexual activities, but everyone seems to want to impress or offer their services to officers in one way or another. Charles Lee, for example, happily wastes nights away playing his pipe with any willing maiden.

And Alexander himself has never (and will never) be innocent of such promiscuity. No, Alexander has set his sights and has made clear his intentions, and his escapades are well known throughout the camp in both male and female circles. He knows he’s talked of, knows of his particular brand of fame - knows that surely Tallmadge must at least be _aware_ of the sort of man Alexander is, even as a virgin who supposedly avoids all talk of _scandalous nature_. Realistically, the two of them would have never associated; Alexander would have tried when he’d finally noticed Benjamin’s soft, steely eyes or the heart shape to his face, but he can all too easily imagine Benjamin’s response to his advances, and it isn't exceptionally positive.

And still, for all that they may not have associated once upon a time, now that they do Alexander can’t help but find that for what he lacks in experience Benjamin makes up for in personality. Quite the conversationalists, they pass their days speaking of trivial things, sharing anecdotes of their times in school or, obviously, of the latest camp gossip -even going so far as to tease one another about the rumors floating around.

“I noticed your absence from dinner yesterday evening,” Ben says after a long period of silence, voice wry and a little hoarse from going so long without speaking. Piles of documents sit before the both of them for all of the work that they’ve done today - for all of the work they’ve yet to do. Still, Ben sounds in good spirits, if a little drawn and tired. “I hoped you were feeling alright; I’d heard some concerning reports as to what you may have been up to.”

“Quite,” Alexander answers, smirking as he puts down the letter he’s holding. A break never did any harm. “Not that you would know the manner of my distraction, going by your own rumor mill.”

“Hm,” Ben says. “Well, I will say no such activities have ever made _me_ late to dinner, nor have they captured the attention of _Lady Washington._ Though speaking of, she seemed to be _quite_ content with _Hamilton the cat’s_ yowling outside the dining room last night rather than yours  _within_.”

Alexander laughs. He reaches out to place a hand on Benjamin’s shoulder, fingers gently laying against the skin of his pulse point. It jumps. “Well,” says Alexander, “the _other_ lady I was with was, I daresay, enjoying my _yowling_ , so my absence was clearly for the benefit of all.”  
  
Benjamin chokes on a laugh. It's stifled beneath a ducked head and pursed lips, but Alexander still glows in triumph as he feels Benjamin’s pulse jump beneath his fingers again. Honey rather than vinegar, indeed.

Reaching over to grab the bottle of Madeira he’d specifically placed in the office for such opportunities, Alexander pours them both a glass and hands his off to Benjamin. “A toast, then,” Alexander says, and watches Ben’s gorgeous eyes glint with amusement. “To bedroom escapades and pleased bed mates.”

Ben shakes his head, a closed lip smile on his face, but he obligingly swallows down the contents of his glass. They don’t savor it like they should, and Alexander pours them both seconds to sip more appreciatively.

They don’t speak for a time, leaning over their respective documents to continue working. Even short breaks have consequences, Alexander thinks to himself ruefully, but as he glances towards Ben he can’t bring himself to regret it. The respite, however short, seems to have done him some good; his face is less pinched and he looks a little less like he’ll fall asleep where he sits, and Alexander can never truly bring himself to regret any of his more positive interactions with Ben.

(Of course, not all of them are positive; even with their flirtation and their lingering touches, arguments and disagreements arise often, and their tongues are both sharp enough to truly sting. Not tonight, though. Neither of them have the energy tonight - nor the fire. They're warmed by one another tonight, not burned.)

After a time, Ben pushes his chair back, the legs screeching against the floor and sounding almost as harsh as his agitated sigh. The good mood evaporates.

“Washington wishes to hear further reports from Mulligan and Culper Junior on the movements within New York, and insists they be more accurate and detailed than the last.”

Alexander’s temper flares, irritation sparking. “And how precisely has he detailed this?”

Ben brandishes the letter at him without sparing a glance, and Alexander’s eyes skim over the document with growing annoyance. “So he doesn’t, essentially,” Alexander clips finally. He forces himself to take another sip of Madeira. They've made progress tonight, and it would be a shame to undo it by words spoken in aggravation. “So lovely is the advice of our Commander-in-Chief.”

Ben sighs again and rubs at his eyes. He looks exhausted, whatever energy he'd regained from their earlier break gone like a gust of wind. Alexander leans towards him, chair gently edging along the floor. Ben twitches, but otherwise doesn’t move.

Honey, Alexander reminds himself, annoyance still simmering, and takes a deep breath.

“You ought to get some rest, Ben,” he says, voice softer than he’d intended but, he finds, not altogether out of place. After all, it isn't Benjamin he's angry with.“Retire for the night. Set this aside. You’ve been looking at it too long.”

Ben is silent for a time, staring down at the parchment like it will provide him the answers to his latest cipher. “... Hm,” he finally acquiesces, the easiest agreement Alexander has ever come to with Benjamin Tallmadge. His voice is quiet, stripped bare by sweetness rather than salt.  “I think you’re right. It’s just.. it's just."

 _Tired._  Alexander knows. Ben can't seem to bring himself to say it, and stands up instead as if to excuse himself.

Alexander stands with him. When he speaks, his voice is softer still, and he settles his hand back against Ben’s shoulder - half anchoring, half insisting. His fingers come close to the pulse point in Ben's neck again, as they so often have. “I know.”

Ben swallows. He looks more tired than Alexander has ever seen him. When they’d first met, Alexander had immediately thought Benjamin to be sickly - he'd been so pale and drawn, Alexander had thought that sickness was the only thing powerful enough to draw lines in a man's face like that. But it's grief and stress and sleepless nights. Ben has trouble sleeping even now, Alexander knows - but if he’s kept awake by cannon fire in the distance or the memory of lost friends, the distinction has never been made clear.  

But as he looks at Ben’s face, he can’t help the swell of affection that rises in him; the sudden fondness, soft and caring, that wells up inside him like it only has for two other people: John Laurens and Elizabeth Schuyler.

Alexander can’t help himself. He looks down at Ben’s lips, then to Ben's eyes, and makes a decision.

_Honey rather than vinegar._

“I think,” he continues, quiet but firm, “that you’re a brilliant Head of Intelligence and a fine officer, and Washington doesn’t know how lucky he is to have you. Not by half.”  
  
Ben’s breath hitches. It would have given him away had Alexander not already known how exactly Ben ticks.

Bolstered, Alexander goes on. “And if you’re half as good an officer as you are a man, then I’m lucky indeed to be working alongside you.”

“Alexander,” Ben murmurs, half a whisper.

Alexander takes a bold step closer, letting the touches of the past couple of months speak for themselves as he gently brushes his knuckles against the bottom of Ben’s jaw. Another hitch of breath; Ben’s eyes find his, startled but trusting, and it’s Ben who closes the gap, takes half a step closer so their chests are touching, pressed up against one another.

Ben’s eyes search his.

“Alexander,” he whispers again and loses strength halfway through, like he doesn’t know how to deal with sugar after so long receiving sourness. And try as Alexander might he’s never quite mastered restraint and there’s an opportunity simply dangling in front of him, waiting for him to snatch it. Still, he has to proceed with caution. _Just a little more now, just a little more. There’s still that spark, but don't let it ignite._

“I know about your little crush,” Alexander murmurs, and as Ben’s cheeks flare scarlet knows he's succeeded. He presses his knuckles against one of the red splotches, and delights in the way Benjamin shivers. “There’s no need to be embarrassed. I like making you blush.”

Ben opens his mouth, but whatever he was going to say fizzles out before it crosses his lips. Alexander laughs again, charmed, and gets cocky. “I also know you’ve never done this before.”

The reaction is instantaneous; Ben’s expression shutters, and he’s pulling away before Alexander can even hope to hold him in place. Grasping at both shoulders now,  Alexander draws Ben back close, trying to fix his blunder, trying to reassure. “No, no, no; it’s as I said. I think it’s cute.”

Ben scoffs quietly, scowling, but he looks less affronted, indignance replacing any mortification he’d felt. Alexander takes this as encouragement. “I would be honored indeed to be your first of anything, if you'd allow me.”

There’s a period of silence that stretches for too long; Ben stares anywhere but at Alexander, ashamed (shy, resentful? _angry?_ Good lord, but he knows about Tallmadge’s pride). But this isn’t the time for one of their spats; this isn’t the place, pressed up against one another, to respond with salt or sourness, so Alexander leans forward and whispers, “Benjamin,” smooth like honey, and finally, finally Ben looks back up at him.

And finally, finally Alexander closes the distance between them, pressing his lips to Ben’s. There's a surprised little inhale; a clumsy, uncoordinated movement of his mouth as he tries to reciprocate; the flutter of his eyelashes as his eyes gently shut. It lasts less than five seconds - is incredibly chaste, for Alexander’s part. When Alexander draws away enough to look at his face, though, Ben looks like he’s just done the most scandalous thing of his life, eyes wide, a flush high on his face. _Always blushing,_ Alexander thinks, endeared, and has to resist kissing him again because the dazed look on Ben’s face doesn’t lend itself to second leaps of faith in the same night.

Instead, Alexander leans forward, listens to the soft hitch of Ben’s breath, and privately smiles as he reaches around Ben altogether to grab his coat from where it’s draped over the back of his chair. As he straightens, he presses it into Benjamin’s slack, uncooperative fingers. “Here,” he says, and Ben grasps at it like he doesn’t quite know how to operate his hands anymore, and though Alexander would love to stay there forever admiring the effect that he’s had, Benjamin still looks truly exhausted, and telling him to retire for the night hadn’t been a come-on despite all it had lead to.

“Now go on,” Alexander says, Ben blinking at him like he’s coming out of a dream. Alexander wants to kiss the dazed look right back onto Ben's face, and his impulse control is almost as bad as his restraint: if Benjamin stays much longer Alexander may do something he’ll come to regret. Second leaps, and all that. “Go,” he insists. “Get some rest.”

Ben nods like he’s finally processing Alexander’s words, huffs out a breath, and smiles in a way Alexander has never seen, bright and brilliant. It makes something inside him soften just a little further.

Ben walks out on clumsy, coltish legs, though his shoulders are held stiffly - perhaps trying to look impressive, Alexander thinks with a raised eyebrow, or maybe just attempting to give off the impression to others that he’s still put together and coherent (not that anyone would be able to piece together what exactly they’d been doing, but Alexander can understand the paranoia). But Ben is trying to pretend he's more than he is. The reason is beyond Alexander; there lies a spine of steel inside Tallmadge, the likes of which Alexander has only seen matched by John Laurens. Ben needs to pretend nothing in that regard.

Besides, who does Ben think he’s fooling?

Certainly not Alexander.

Because Alexander has figured out that Ben is a man almost as determined as he is loyal and almost as loyal as he is protective, clever and bright and quite possibly the most stubborn person Alexander has ever met. He has no clue how Washington hasn’t figured it out yet - hasn’t figured out that Ben will simply work that much more efficiently through praise instead of criticism. He doesn’t understand how the spats between Washington and Ben get to be so ruthlessly violent; not when the spats between Ben and himself are always born from a place of concern for their friends, something they both share in equal measures. But Alexander does understand how Ben works, even if it’s contrary to what he’s known for others, to what he himself has known his whole life.

But still, Alexander can’t help but be drawn to the sweetness of it.

**Author's Note:**

> you know i swear to myself every day i won't write more hamilton x tallmadge fic, like a liar, who lies
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed !! Please leave me a comment or a kudos telling me what you thought, sit tight because there's more coming to the series, and check me and my co-writer Cassie out on tumblr at thcgardcn.tumblr.com for updates, meta, and whatnot!!
> 
> -Ro


End file.
